


The Meeting Room

by Fr3nulum



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is a jealous dork, Anal Sex, Bottom France (Hetalia), Dirty Talk, Dominance, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Francis being a flirt, Jealousy, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top America (Hetalia), World Meeting (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fr3nulum/pseuds/Fr3nulum
Summary: Alfred had enough of his boyfriend's constant flirting with other nations right before his eyes.But Francis couldn't help it, he was the 'country of love' after all, right?Nonetheless, Alfred decides to give him a lesson.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> (Reposting this on AO3)  
First time writing PWP, or erotic work in general. English not being my mother tongue, I am sorry for any possible writing mistakes. 
> 
> Anyway, this fandom lacks way too much in UsFr and RusFra, or bottom France in general. So I'll try to provide.   
I'm just... very gay for these three, hahah. 
> 
> Regardless, thank you for passing by.

He didn't like it.

He would usually not pay attention to them, but recently, Alfred had kept on getting more and more distracted by the two European nations than he should. Or at least, by one of them; Francis.

Alfred kept looking at his way, flirting with Arthur. Arthur who did not seem to notice the provoked looks the American has been giving him.

He wasn't afraid to admit it (to himself, at least): he was extremely jealous. Like a kid in the schoolyard who didn't had the toy he wanted while his friends had fun with it. And his 'toy' was openly flirting with this old, grumpy retired punk. 

Alfred mentally slapped himself at that. How could he even think that of Francis? He was much more than a children's toy. He was his lover, the man who gives more colors to his world and make his heart explode when he looked at him with these love-filled aquamarine eyes of his. And the man who helped him when he needed it the most, a long time ago.

And since then, he loved him. Passionately, with every inch of his body, every ounce of his soul. But he couldn't stand the sight of the Frenchman giving attention to the British nation.

He didn't hate Arthur at all though, in fact, even if it pained him a little to admit it, he was and has always been grateful to the man. 

Yet he couldn't help but let out a long sigh as he gave one last glance to the two of them, and decided to focus on his papers and Ludwig's endless barking who tried to calm everyone down in order to continue the meeting.

Alfred couldn't stay focused on his work though. He looked up again, readjusting his glasses as he did, only to find Francis playing with Arthur's tie. The American almost snapped at that, ready to jump off of his chair and drag the Frenchman out of the room with him, when a hand suddenly gently rested on his shoulder.

"What is the matter, America?" He recognized the thick slavic accent and that taunting tone immediately; Ivan.

"Nothing. Everything's alright. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing, really... I just happen to notice the looks you've been giving to these two over there for the past 30 minutes." Ivan stopped for a second, looking at said to nations who were now giggling like teenage girls at their phones. He turned back to Alfred, his calm voice tainted with curiosity and obvious mockery.  
"What is it? Do you mind dear France playing with England? Do you find it funny too? Or could it be that maybe, you are just jealous..."

"Of cOURSE I'M NOT." Shit. He spoke too quickly.

Ivan smiled, letting out a small chuckle at how easy it was to read the American when he was on edge. "... you know you can't separate them, after everything they went through together since their youngest age. They care for each other, no matter what they say or do; you do understand that you cannot do anything about it, don't you?"

"I do..." Alfred sighed. He knew this all too well, and even if he did enjoy seeing them yelling at each other's faces, sometimes it still bothered him to see Arthur playing with Francis's hair, or Francis whispering god knows what to Arthur's ear.

Alfred glanced back at Ivan, a weak smile on his face. "It's that... y'know, I don't really know what to say to him to get him to stop doing this, at least in front of me. Damn, am I being too selfish again man?"

Ivan blinked, startled by the sudden questioning from the other nation. He tightened his grip on Alfred's shoulder. "You always are selfish. But, it is normal to feel sad or angry when the one you love is being taken away from you." He paused and looked right into Alfred's eyes for a second. Alfred didn't know what to do, nor did he knew what to say, knowing the pain that his friend had to go through for a couple of years now. Love, friends, family, everything slowly fading away from his sight. 

Ivan smiled. " Have you tried talking to him already? I know France isn't the kind of person that just ignores others' feelings like that." He chuckled quietly. "Or maybe you could let him know the hard way."

"... What do you mean?" Alfred slightly raised an eyebrow, oblivious at the Russian's suggestion.

"I mean that, you could make him 'understand' who he does belong to and make him say it himself. I know you can do this. You've done it before. And you'd enjoy it, right?" 

Alfred's cheeks suddenly turned to a light shade of pink when he understood what Ivan meant, the sudden memory of their past 'nightly games' when the Russian nation felt lonely or wanted to try something new.  
"Oh fuck off!"  
He abruptly yanked Ivan's hand off of his shoulder.

Ivan just laughed, clearly amused by how weak Alfred could be at times. He looked back at the two European nations, who seemed to have started listening to Ludwig after getting kicked out of the room and brought back by the German himself. 

Alfred sat back in his seat, nervously playing whit his pencil's eraser, observing Francis, bitter expression from his frames. The meeting would end in a couple of minutes, and he now had a plan in mind to get his lover's attention. He had to make sure to thank Ivan at some point for his somehow helpful suggestion. He will. Eventually.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (See end of work for translation)

As everyone started gathering their belongings and heading towards the exit, Francis, who managed to fall asleep during the last minutes of the meeting, yawned and lightly rubbed his tired eyes, vision still a bit blurry from the nap. 

By the time he realized that almost everyone had left the room, except for Kiku and Sadik who started to head towards the door, Francis noticed Alfred leaning against the wall next to the exit, eyes half closed, as if he was waiting for something.

He wasn't sure as to what Alfred was doing though. Was he sleeping? Or just dozing off? Maybe he was indeed waiting for something?

Francis didn't know. He did feel that his boyfriend was on the edge lately, and knew that the lack of attention he has been giving him was making Alfred feel frustrated and maybe a bit mad. But Francis couldn't help it, as much as he wished to just sit down and take care of the boy, work and EU issues were completely draining his forces and usual cheerfulness.

He sighed, tired and still a bit sleepy, fingers fighting with the loop of his bag, trying to close it as quickly as possible so he could leave and take Alfred somewhere nice to get something to eat.   
As he finally managed to close his bag and put it over his shoulder, Francis heard a very loud slam from behind him that made his heart jump for a second.

He quickly turned around, only to find the door shut, handle blocked by a chair, and standing in front of said door, was Alfred, a little smile on his face, intensely looking into Francis's eyes.

Francis kept staring at him for a second, taking this little time to admire the other man's baby face and the low golden lights of the warm evening, flooding the room from the half closed curtains, dancing like the flames of a fire place in his eyes. The Frenchman could feel his cheeks become a bit warmer before he broke the eye contact, having a very blurry idea of god knows what Alfred had in mind.

"Hello, France!" Alfred started walking up to him, his little smile twisting into a vicious grin. Francis took a step back as Alfred took a step forward, but stopped almost instantly in his movements when his lower back hit the meeting room's table, a quick shiver running up his spine from the tension slowly filing the room.   
"How was the meeting today?"

"Plainly boring, as always." Francis answered calmly in a lazy tone, shrugging.

He didn't even bother with sarcasm today, the boy wouldn't have got it anyway.

Alfred eventually got up to him, looking down at the European nation, placing his arms on the table behind Francis. Francis's heart started to run faster, the tension making him feel nervous, trapped between the table and his obviously pissed off lover.

"Is this why you've been playing your little games with England during the whole of it?" Alfred snarled, frowning, his tone bitter and harsh. Francis kept looking up to him, trying not to look away, which is something he usually wouldn't have to focus to achieve, but right now, he felt the urge the look at anything but the American's face. He was probably tired. Yeah.

Even if Alfred was younger, he was still taller than him, which is something that always amused Francis, knowing how intimidating he could be, but how much of a soft brat he actually was.

"Could it be that you're being jealous, chéri?" Francis asked teasingly, his face getting a little bit closer to his boyfriend's, right hand playfully toying with his tie.

Alfred swallowed nervously, his cheeks turning to a soft shade of red. "And what if I was? I don't want you to look at him this way, I am the one you should be looking at, not him." 

He placed his left hand on Francis's ass, before giving it a good squeeze, feeling how firm the other man was, the satisfying result of years of parkour and work out during his spare time. Alfred was always impressed at how he was able to run for 20 minutes straight, climbing and jumping from rooftops to rooftops, like a cat lost in an aimless chase in the streets. Or like a superhero flashing through the city to save the world. He has been begging him to teach him parkour, but the only thing he could do was jump from one bench to another without falling to the ground, hurting himself and giving up once again to get an ice cream from the ice cream man in the park to tend to his slightly damaged ego.

He quickly managed to catch his thoughts, focusing on Francis once again.

'Oh, so this is how it's gonna play uh?' Francis noted. He rested his hands flat on the American's chest, palming the muscles through the layers of clothing. "Oh but I do know that, chéri."

Alfred's blush darken, as he leaned in closer, his eyes sharp and clear. "I don't want you to touch another man like this."

"And what if I do?" Francis let out a nervous laugh, unused to the young nation being so openly jealous and even dominant, a bit scared at the thought of what Alfred was able to do when he really was angry.

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to make you understand how to behave in front of me, France." 

And with that, Alfred roughly sealed his lips on Francis's, making the Frenchman shudder in his arms. Francis could feel Alfred's hands running up his hips, wandering along his sides, continuing their tender movements with a firm grip on his body. He gave in into his sensual embrace, appreciating the feeling of his lover's scent mixing with his own, filling his mind, moving his own hands over his shoulders and gently placing his right palm behind the American's head.

He eventually loosened his jaw, letting Alfred's forceful tongue explore his mouth, sucking and nipping at his lower lip, the wet muscle insistently pushing his own, almost fighting against it. He let out a soft moan between Alfred's lips, which made Alfred smile in delight.

They finally broke the kiss. Before Francis had the time to complain, Alfred licked the other man's lips one more time, before going down along the side of his jaw, leaving feather kisses wherever he could reach on the way, finally stopping at his neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, before sucking hard on it, making sure to leave bruises that he'll have the pleasure to admire during the following days.

He felt the need to mark him, to show everyone around him that he was his.

Francis hissed at the sudden pain, but didn't even bother to say anything, quite intrigued at the idea of letting the younger one do as he pleased. He was nervous though, for a couple of reasons: Alfred, mostly, but also the thought of being caught in the meeting room. Which honestly aroused him, he also did like to be treated poorly, and doing it in a place where anyone could enter was something that he loved, but he didn't really felt like being caught by one of the Italian brothers, for example, especially by his precious little Feleciano. Of course, Alfred had locked the door, but they could easily be heard, if someone was to walk by.

Alfred pulled away long enough to remove Francis's shirt, opening the buttons quickly before throwing the fabric out of the way. Francis reached out to gently take off the other man's glasses and put them to the side, cold hands removing his shirt, taking in the sight of Alfred's define bare chest, his eyes wandering on the outline of his shoulders.

He buried his face into the Frenchman's collarbone again, tongue tracing down to his chest, before stopping at one his nipples, teasing him, sucking at it, looking up to Francis's darkly flushed face, nipping at it roughly. He took the other nipple between his thumb and index, rubbing it hard between his fingers.

"Ah... fuck... Quit the teasing already" Francis gasped, pleasure slowly starting to coil inside of him. He could feel his member growing hard against the fabric of his pants, only waiting to be touched and taken care of.

"Language." Alfred spat back, coldly. He gave his lover one more kiss on the lips before slipping his hand under Francis's pants, cupping his hardened member through his boxers, finger lightly playing with his balls.

"Do you want me to punish you that bad? What a slut you are, Francis." He purred into his ear, his breath burning against the Frenchman's neck. The unexpected mention of his name made Francis shudder, embarrassment starting to make him look away, holding back from grinding against the American's hand.

Alfred finally decided to remove Francis's pants, along with his underwear, tossing them onto the ground, freeing his cock from the constricting clothing. He took his length in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, earning a low and needy groan from the older nation.

He grinned, satisfied at the thought of Francis being his, giving up under his touch, looking at him, touching him, almost whimpering for him to smash his back against the table. Ooh, he was going to make him scream.

Alfred stepped back, admiring his work: he truly looked beautiful, laying in front of him on the meeting room's table, face flushed, hair tousled, golden locks flowing down his now perfectly bruised neck, soft and deep aquamarine eyes staring into bright blue orbs with lust and shame, legs spread, begging to be fucked.

"How much do you want me, uh? Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you." He teased, biting his lower lip in a way the Frenchman found absolutely adorable.

"Amérique..."

"Hum? Yeah, what is it that you want?"

"Please America, fuck me." Francis whimpered, needy, impatient.

There. He didn't need to hear anything more from the man in front of him to happily spread his legs wider, calloused hands caressing his thighs playfully. He reached up, shoving two fingers into Francis's mouth.

"Suck." He ordered.

Francis simply did as he was told. God, did he loved it when Alfred was about to take him raw like that. There was such a fresh energy to him, something dynamic and joyful that always made his heart melt whenever they had some private time together.

He removed his fingers once he deemed them wet enough, pressing an insistent finger at the shorter nation's entrance, groaning in anticipation. He kissed the inside of his thighs, sucking hard on the sensitive skin to have the pleasure to hear Francis whimper in sheer desperation. He scissored him, adding a second finger past the ring of muscle. It's been a couple of days since they had the time to have sex, he didn't want to hurt him too much, and Francis was too fucking tight again, in the best way possible, sending hot shivers directly to Alfred's hard cock. He couldn't wait to bury himself in him.

Unfortunately, Alfred didn't actually planned this, therefore he didn't brought any lube with him, which was a shame, really. But it was okay, he loved to tease and pleasure the man, to take the time to appreciate his love when he was submitting to him, burning with passion. He removed his fingers, only to spread his cheeks further apart and replace said fingers with his hot tongue, making very loud slurping sounds, lubing him as much as he could.

Francis gasped in surprise, startled at the sudden intrusion, the wet muscle pushing in all the right places, teasing.

His hands were now on both sides of his thighs, Alfred keeping Francis's legs in place. How the hell could he be so manly while having such feminine and thick curves, was something he always wondered, but he thanked god for this firm, round ass of his every time he could get his hands on it.

Francis, was just laying there, demanding for nothing but to finally be taken, struggling with his legs against Alfred's iron grip. It was quite unusual for Francis to see Alfred being this patient, but hell if it took him to flirt around with other nations in front of him to get fucked like that, he sure will do it again with pleasure.   
Who knows, maybe they could talk it out and get the boy into a threesome. Or more.

Alfred quickly removed himself from the delicious ass in front of him, and quickly got rid of the rest of his own clothing. Francis kept looking at him with demanding eyes, the other nation had always been so...   
"Big" was the only thing that left his mouth.

Alfred smiled. It was always a victory for him to have the so called nation of Love, who had much more experience than Alfred could never dream to have, praising him so honestly like that. It turned him on so much.

Before leaving his pants on the ground, he fumbled in his pockets, and pulled out a condom. He unwrapped it, promptly rolled it down his thick member, and spat into his hand, slicking himself up and making sure that Francis was loose enough.

"Oh fuck... you look so damn hot like this Francis. I'm just going to fuck you until the people in the coffee lounge can hear how much of a bad boy you've been."   
Alfred purred, before sliding his hand up his lover's chest and forcefully pushing him down on the table.

Francis couldn't help shaking as pleasure rushed through his body. He was all too happy about letting the boy do what he pleases with him, because even if the idea of sweet vanilla love making made him drooled, he did really enjoyed being used this way, gloriously fucked and dominated.

He wrapped his legs around Alfred's hips, pushing him against his skin, clinging to his shoulders. "Very well, Mr. Hero.... S'il vous plaît, punissez moi."

"Hell I will!" Alfred has never really been the patient type anyway. It was almost impossible for him to refrain from just shoving him down and fuck the life out of him. He pushed his cock up between his cheeks, not slow, but not quick, allowing Francis some time to adjust.

They both hissed at the feeling. Francis tensed up, a muffled shout escaping his mouth, breath hitching as the other man filled him.

For a second, Alfred just pushed his partner's cheeks wider apart to watch himself pump in and out of his body, mouth falling open, panting, as he gave a few experimental thrusts here and there, until he found that spot, that very spot.

He dug his nails into his sides, squeezing hard enough to leave perfect red marks on the flawless skin, beginning a deep, fast pounding, gaining a quicker pace with each strong thrusts of his hips, as if he wanted them to break through the table. His head, his back, his arms, his whole body, felt strained out of frustration, of sheer greediness and carnal need.

"Ah-- dear god, please Amérique,"   
Francis let out a pained moan, arching up into him, a flash of pain running through is body, holding onto his shoulders for dears life. Alfred groaned, burring his mouth into the sweet arc of his neck, licking at the bruises he left minutes before, and started biting him all over again, teeth dragging down the crook of his collarbone, just to hear the other man gasp sharply and shudder under his touch.

Alfred angled back his hips with a sneer, shifting Francis's body before he hit that spot again, diving deep into him, in a dizzyingly fast rhythm that the older man had trouble to keep up with, encouraging him, screaming for Alfred to fuck him harder.

"Al- Alfred, don't stop! Please ahh-" His hips bucked up, hands white knuckling on his flesh, burning insides contracting in a way that made Alfred let out a sharp gasp, sweaty face twisting in ecstasy.

"Shit, Francis, ah- say it again, fuck, yes! Oh, say it again, I wanna hear you say my name," he spout out breathlessly, almost euphorically, hands gripping harder on the other man's sides.

"Aahh Alfred, Al- yes! Oui, ah encore, please, please baise moi, I love you-- Je t'aime Alfred!" His vision became blurry, hot tears began running down his face, drooling mouth twisting into a loving smile, his back aching and his arms shaking,  
as he took himself in his hand, pumps catching with the American's thrusts at an almost unbearable pace, pushing him closer to the edge with each movements of the hips.

Alfred leaned closer to his face, gasping as Francis's fingers dug into his shoulders, crawling and scratching at his back like those of a drowning man.

"I love you, god I love you, so much-- Francis I love you, ah, Francis,"  
Alfred whispered against his cheek, ravaging Francis's mouth with swollen lips, feeling the violent thrum of his heartbeat, suffocating him as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes locked on the other nation, getting drunk in the sweet smell of his fresh cologne, his precious thing, this man that he loved like a fool, crying and squirming under him, around him, his incoherent breathless babbling making Alfred's blood boil in his veins.

There were words chanted almost religiously on Francis lips, a rumble of words he couldn't even understand anymore, filling the room with the ringing of his cries, the creaking sound of the cold wood of the table marching to the sound of their melody, like a light drum giving an harmonious rhythm to their beat.

And Francis's screams started echoing in Alfred's mind as he squeezed his eyes shut, filling his head, moans reverberating in his whole body, until he completely lost himself, tip-toeing between awareness and trance as they come, hands grasping and desperately seeking something to hold onto, the melody finally reaching its final accord. 

Francis pulled the American's face to his cheek, placing kisses all over his face, a tired smile decorating his own. It took almost a minute for Alfred to regain composure, before languidly returning the gesture.

"That was... incroyable." Francis huffed, lazily rubbing his eyes. It's been a while since they've done something like this, and he clearly missed it.

"Yeah it was... whatever you said haha!" He laughed, letting out a long sight of relief and satisfaction, before continuing.   
"But please, don't... do this again, or at least not in front of me. I know how you care for him and all, it's just- ... yeah."

Alfred tried his hardest to sort out his thoughts, completely drained out, loudly rolling to the side onto the table, resting his face on Francis's shoulder.

"Well, I might do it one more time, if this is what I get in return." He taunted happily, fingers playing with the dirty blond locks tickling his neck.

"... you did this on purpose, did you?" Alfred looked up, raising an eyebrow, a suspicious look on his face.

"Maybe." Francis grinned. He knew better than making the boy angry, but sometimes it just amused him to see the boy getting all carried away on his own.

"Oh, fuck you." He retorted, slightly ashamed at his short temper and overreactions, but he just giggled and put his arms around Francis's torso, clinging to him like a child.

He knew they'd have to get out of the room sooner or later, but he would have loved not having to get up and stay here, on the now humid table, the heaving of the other nation's chest rocking him in an overwhelming feeling of comfort, resting.

"Je t'aime, Alfred." was the only thing he heard before they both passed out on the table, the calm after the storm, exhausted, breaths slowly going back to their gentle pace, bodies curling into each other's embrace, the rumble of muffled voices outside the room carrying them into an peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Chéri= darling, honey (male form)  
S'il vous plaît= please (formal, polite form)  
Punissez moi= punish me (formal, polite form)  
Amérique: America   
Oui= yes  
Encore= more, again  
Baise moi= fuck me   
Je t'aime= I love you  
Incroyable= incredible, amazing


End file.
